


A World Without Gargamel

by RowenaZahnrei



Category: Les Schtroumpfs | The Smurfs
Genre: Alternate Future, Animal Transformation, Enchanter, Gen, Magic, Might-Have-Been Reality, Mischief, Self-Worth, Self-Worth Issues, Wizard, alternate past, imp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:04:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8941210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowenaZahnrei/pseuds/RowenaZahnrei
Summary: In this specially requested sequel to "It's A Wonderful Smurf" Mandrake the Imp is back, but this time Gargamel is the target of his mischief. Can the failed wizard prove his life has had worth? This story includes two fantastic fanart illustrations by Katie! Thank you! :DCOMPLETE STORY! Reviews Welcome! :D





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Gargamel or the Smurfs, but Mandrake the Mischievous is mine. Please don't sue me or steal my story!
> 
> NOTE: When I was little, I thought Azrael was a girl. I realized later Azrael was a guy cat in the show, and he's a guy cat in just about all of my other Smurfs stories, but since this story deals with an alternate reality, I thought it would be fun to write Azrael as a female, so that's what I did. I hope you don't mind, and I hope you enjoy my story!
> 
> NOTE II: Gargamel calls Lord Balthazar "Uncle" in the Smurfs episode "Handy's Kite." So, Balthazar is Gargamel's uncle and his godfather (something that's pretty common in lots of families).

A World Without Gargamel  
By Rowena Zahnrei

Chapter One

Azrael woke with a start, her growling stomach jarring her from dreams of food.

Stretching hugely, the scruffy brown cat jumped lightly down from the hearthstone where she'd spent the night and began investigating the dust that had collected in the corners, her keen senses on the alert for any sign of mice. The search was one of habit, though. Azrael knew there was nothing to find. The cupboards had been bare for so long, even the mice had deserted their holes.

Growling deep in her throat, the starving cat shot an angry glare across the room to the sagging bed where her worthless human snored. She watched him mutter in his sleep, and her hackles rose.

Padding to his side, Azrael crouched low and pounced.

She landed with claws outstretched right on her wizard's chest.

"YIIIIPE!" Gargamel yelped hoarsely.

His eyes shot open and his arms flailed as he struggled to sit up.

Azrael wouldn't let him. Instead, she walked up his nightshirt and glared right in his face, her crooked tail twitching behind her as if to scold him for sleeping when he should have been finding breakfast for his hungry cat.

"Get off me, you mangy feline!" Gargamel shouted, batting her away with his frayed, gray pillow. "Are you trying to suffocate me?"

Azrael raised an eyebrow.

"Mrower."

She shrugged with a wicked smile.

Gargamel frowned, and sat up at last.

Azrael jumped to the floor.

"Well?" the wizard demanded. "What do you want? Why have you woken me up at this ungodly hour?"

"Mreow!"

Azrael scowled, and leaped up onto the counter. She balanced on her hind legs and scratched pointedly at the cupboard door.

Gargamel sighed deeply, scratching his fingers through his greasy, thinning hair.

"Oh, right," he muttered. "It's market day today, isn't it."

He shot his cat a slitted glare.

"And I suppose you'll be wanting some nice chicken livers and duck hearts for your supper, am I right?"

Azrael's yellowed eyes opened wide and she licked her lips.

"Mrowrer!"

"Well, you're not going to get them," Gargamel grumped.

Standing up on his spindly legs, he strode over to his wardrobe, where he pulled on his frayed, patched robes and stepped into his worn, red shoes.

"I've only got three pennies, so we're both just going to have to make do with gruel as usual."

Azrael hissed and spat, but her snarls were wasted on the failed wizard, who was staring dolefully down at the three pitiful coins in his hand. Taking a long glance around his crumbling hovel, he slowly shook his head, his expression bitter and his thin lips pursed.

"I hate this place, Azrael," he said. "I truly do."

Azrael nodded.

"Merow," she agreed.

"But it won't always be like this, mark my words," Gargamel assured her. "Someday I'll catch those Smurfs, and then we'll have all the gold we could ever want. Enough to buy that castle from my rotten godfather, Uncle Balthazar. Enough to impress Mummy! Enough to finally vindicate myself before the entire wizarding world!"

Azrael yawned and rolled her eyes, as if to say, "Yeah right. Dream on."

Gargamel didn't notice. He was charged up now, striding to the door with a new bounce in his step.

"Wait for me here, Azrael," he ordered. "If any Smurfs should come near, you know what to do!"

"Mreah, mreah," she said, curling back up on the hearthstone as the door slammed behind her human's departing back.

"Just be sure to bring me food," she thought darkly to herself with a predatory smirk. "Or else I might just eat you..."

To Be Continued...


	2. Chapter 2

The market day streets were choked with commerce. It was a scene of barely organized chaos. Everywhere, townspeople from all walks of life were shouting and grabbing, chickens and ducks were flapping in their pens and cages, merchants were singing little jingles in hopes of drawing the curious. Ragged-looking children flocked after a man wheeling a cart full of cakes and pastries. The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked meat pies and mutton pastys wafting out from the bakery. It was a bustling, lively scene, yet the excitement and energy was lost on Gargamel as he grumpily pushed his way through the pressing crowd towards the miller's booth.

"Oh, it's you, Gargamel," the plump miller frowned in disappointment when he saw who was approaching. "You'll be wanting a bag of the usual ground meal, I expect?"

"Just hand it over, you fat twit," the failed wizard growled. "And don't worry, I can pay this time."

"You'd better pay," the miller scowled. "I'm not in the business of charity, you know. Not when it comes to the likes of you."

"And I'm not in the business of wasting my precious time talking to dimwits like you!" Gargamel snapped. "Now bring me my meal, Miller. I have a lot to do today."

The miller glared at him for a moment, then called to the boy behind him with a theatrical shout that could be heard all down the street. "You hear that, Billy?" he yelled, never taking his eyes from Gargamel's fuming face. "Mr. Gargamel here wants his supper. Go bring him his usual bag of chicken feed, will you? The penny size, of course."

The nearby townspeople snickered in open derision, causing Gargamel to grind his teeth in bitter fury. The plump miller shot him one last dark look, then turned a jolly smile on a prosperous-looking woman in a broad-brimmed feathered hat, leaving the stooped wizard no choice but to wait for the boy to return with his sack of grain.

Just then, Gargamel felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around with a glare, he came face to chest with a tall, skinny man with feathery blond hair and startling turquoise eyes. He was dressed all in shades of green, from his feathered hat to his pointed shoes. Gargamel stumbled back a few paces in surprise.

"Hey, I know you," the lanky man grinned. "You're that wizard Gargamel, right? The one who's always chasing Smurfs?"

"What of it?" Gargamel snapped, in no mood to be mocked by a green-clad commoner.

"Come now, there's no cause to get all huffy," the man smiled kindly. "I've actually come here today in hopes of finding you!"

Gargamel was confused. "Finding me?" he frowned. "What for?"

"Why, to help you of course!"

Gargamel's frown deepened into a furious scowl. "I don't need any help from the likes of you!" he snapped. "Go away!"

The lanky man laughed. "You might regret that retort once I introduce myself. My name's Mandrake," he said, holding out his hand for Gargamel to take. "I'm the good friend of a famous flute maker. Perhaps you've heard of him? People call him the Pied Piper."

Gargamel's jaw dropped at the name. "You don't mean…" he stammered. "Not the Pied Piper who…"

"The same," Mandrake nodded, still smiling. Gargamel swallowed in awe, his beady eyes wide.

"Well, my boy, you certainly have my attention-if what you say is true. Tell me, what would the friend of the Pied Piper want with me?"

"I'll show you," the tall man said, reaching into his dark green cloak. Gargamel held his breath as Mandrake pulled out a small, wooden flute barely as long as his hand. The polished instrument was intricately and delicately carved. Tentatively, Gargamel reached out a long, gnarled finger.

"May I…" he gasped. "May I touch it?"

"My good man, you may have it!" Mandrake smiled. "For a price, of course."

Gargamel sputtered. "But-but I only have three pennies to my name!"

Mandrake shook his head. "I could not ask your whole fortune," he said somberly. "Two pennies would be quite enough, I'm sure. After all, what would be the good of a Smurf-luring flute if you were too wasted from hunger to use it?"

"A Smurf-luring flute," Gargamel repeated, his harsh, reedy voice practically squeaking in his glee as he held out his pennies for the tall man to take. Mandrake inspected the copper coins as though they were the most precious gold, then tucked them safely in his purse.

"The flute is yours, Gargamel," he said with a solemn nod. "But with it comes this warning."

"Yes, yes," Gargamel nodded, not really listening as he grasped the delicate little flute in his eager hands.

"Listen well," Mandrake told him, "for I will only say this once. The magic of the flute will only last so long as you continue to play it. As long as the flute is allowed to sing, your dreams of gold and glory can all be yours. Yet the moment you break the tune, so breaks the spell-forever." He peered at Gargamel through suddenly sharp turquoise eyes. "Do you understand?" he asked.

"Yes, of course I do," snapped the stooped little man. "I'm not stupid!" Mandrake raised a white-blond eyebrow.

"Very well, then. The flute is yours. Use it well, Gargamel!"

"Mr. Gargamel, your meal," Billy called out from the miller's booth behind him. Gargamel turned on the boy with a glare.

"How dare you interrupt me," he snarled. "Can't you see I'm talking with…" He trailed off, startled to see that Mandrake was no longer standing where he'd left him.

"With who?" the boy asked.

"What?" Gargamel shook off his confusion and grabbed the penny sack of chicken feed from the confused apprentice. "Never mind that, boy. Just you wait! This will be the last time anyone will ever see Gargamel the Great buy a cheap sack of meal like this. From now on, it'll be rolled oats for my porridge. Boiled up with tender chunks of fresh, blue Smurf!"

Tossing his last penny on the counter, Gargamel turned on his patched heel and strode cheerfully back through the milling crowd, whistling a happy tune as he went.


	3. Chapter 3

Some hours later, Gargamel stood in the ancient forest that stretched out beyond his crumbling stone hovel, his magic flute in hand. Azrael sat curled up on one of the overhanging branches of the Great Oak, her eyes half-closed in boredom as she listened to Gargamel brag about how he'd cunningly swindled Mandrake into giving him the flute for only a penny.

"Mreah, mreah," she yawned, her crooked tail swaying lazily behind her.

"But can you picture it, Azrael!" Gargamel was crowing, clutching the tiny flute to his chest and clicking his heels together in a paroxysm of joy. "An army of little Smurfs, all marching in time to the tune of my flute! They'll be helpless to resist! Even Papa Smurf will come running - straight into my pot!"

"Mrear?" Azrael said, her ears perking at that thought. "Mrand mree?"

"And you, my fine feline friend, can have that annoying little spectacled Smurf for your own personal chew toy!" Gargamel cackled. "We'll have so many Smurfs, we won't know what to do with them all!"

"Mreah!" Azrael grinned wickedly, suddenly energized as she leapt to her feet on the branch.

"Oh, I'm so happy Azrael, I think I'll do a jig!" the ecstatic wizard beamed, bursting at once into song. "Oh I'll roast a few and toast a few and serve a few real cold. Then I'll boil a few and broil a few and turn the rest to gold! Hey!"

"Mrey!" Azrael echoed, chuffing laughter at the sight of Gargamel's awkward little dance.

"OK, here goes," he said at last, his beady eyes gleaming and pale face still somewhat flushed. "Ready, Azrael?"

"Mrmm mrmm!" the cat nodded eagerly, jumping down onto her human's knobby shoulder as he raised the tiny flute to his lips and began to play.

Instantly, she winced, her ragged ears pressing back against her head at the off-key shrills that emanated from the flute. But Gargamel didn't seem to notice how his playing was affecting his cat. He was too wrapped up in his excitement to realize he had no talent.

Some five minutes later, that excitement had faded to frustration. Gargamel was just about to give up - fully intending to track Mandrake down and denounce him as a dirty swindler - when a sudden rustling sound in the underbrush caught his attention. His half-hearted playing was rejuvenated with new energy as a row of dazed-looking blue Smurfs came shuffling out into the clearing, gathering silently at his feet.

Fifteen…twenty-five…fifty… They just kept coming and coming, staring up at him with glazed eyes from under their floppy white Smurf hats.

Seventy-five…eighty-five…ninety… And there was Papa Smurf in his red clothes and white beard, as entranced as the rest of them, walking with arms outstretched and eyes wide. At that sight, Gargamel couldn't help himself. He took the flute from his mouth and broke into gleeful cackles, looking to his cat with a triumphant grin.

"It's working, Azrael!" he exclaimed. "It's really working!"

"Mruh mroh," Azrael warned, glancing pointedly down at the Smurfs. Gargamel followed her gaze, only to find the Smurfs were shaking their heads, looking around in confusion as if just waking up from a strange dream.

"No!" he shouted, bringing the flute back up to his lips. But it was too late. The magic had gone. The harder he blew, the more quickly the Smurfs regained their senses until at last every one of the one-hundred Smurfs was free from the flute's summoning trance.

"Azrael!" Gargamel exclaimed in horror. "Quickly, do something!"

Papa Smurf glanced up in alarm as the cat leapt down into the midst of the Smurfs with a threatening yowl.

"Run, my little Smurfs!" he ordered. "It's Azrael and Gargamel!"

They didn't have to be told twice. Screaming in terror, the tiny blue Smurfs dashed into the safety of the underbrush, narrowly evading Azrael's grasping claws. Within seconds, they were gone, leaving both wizard and cat completely empty handed.

Staring in devastated disbelief at the deserted clearing, Gargamel sank slowly to his knees sobbing wretchedly.

"Why?" he demanded, holding out his arms to the sky like a penitent at a monastery. "Why does nothing ever go right for me? I had them, Azrael! I had them in the palm of my hand and I let them slip away!"

"Mrye mrow," she mewed sympathetically, coming over to rub her head against his side. Gargamel sighed deeply and scratched between her ears, leaning heavily back against the thick trunk of the Great Oak.

"It just isn't fair, Azrael," he whined. "All my chances at greatness have been snatched from me at every turn, and it's all because of those wretched Smurfs! Every time something has gone wrong, they have always been nearby. And now, I finally had a sure-fire way to capture them once and for all and I let them escape! I tell you, Azrael, sometimes I think it would have been better if I'd never been born!"

"Is that so?" a sly little voice spoke up. "I could help you, there."

Gargamel looked up from his sullen slump, his beady eyes suddenly sharp. 

"What's that?" he demanded. "Who's there?"

"Mandrake the Mischievous!" The tiny imp grinned, stepping out from behind a thick root. Taking off his feathered green hat, the blond imp took a sweeping bow, looking up at Gargamel with bright, knowing eyes. "I believe we've met."

"But-but you're barely taller than a Smurf!" Gargamel exclaimed in astonishment. "Surely you're not the same young man—"

"—who gave you that flute?" Mandrake finished with a sly smirk. "Of course I am. And I saw how you used it." He shook his head in disappointment, tutting softly. "Didn't I warn you not to pause in your playing? See what happens when you don't listen?"

"Good grief," Gargamel sneered. "You're starting to sound like Mummy."

Mandrake snorted.

"Maybe if you'd listened to her more often you wouldn't be in the situation you're in now."

"What do you mean by that remark?" Gargamel demanded, starting to get angry. 

Mandrake's smirk broadened.

"Admit it, Gargamel," he said in his sharp little voice. "You're a failure. More than that, you're a dismally abject failure and the whole world knows it!"

Gargamel glared. 

"How dare you—"

"Don't get uppity with me, little man," the diminutive imp snapped. "You know it's true. You're an embarrassment to the name of wizard, a hideous pimple on the backside of your family tree. The world would be better off without you."

"That's a lie!" Gargamel shouted. "You don't know anything about me!"

"I know everything about you, Gargamel," Mandrake said darkly. "I know you flunked out of wizard school. I know your rich Uncle Balthazar wrote you out of his will when you were seventeen. I know—"

"Wait a minute!" Gargamel interrupted. "What do you mean he wrote me out of his will? He told me—"

"He lied to you so he could use you as an errand boy," Mandrake sneered. "And you are so eager to please him, even now you literally fall over yourself trying to do his bidding!" He shook his head. "Honestly, Gargamel, you are quite possibly the most pathetic creature I have ever encountered, and believe me I've encountered quite a few."

"Why you no good, spindly legged little—"

"Careful, Gargamel," Mandrake warned. "Unlike some so-called wizards I could mention, I am actually possessed of a magical gift. It would be unwise to make me angry."

"What do you want?" Gargamel asked with a frown. "Surely you haven't come here just to insult me."

"No, the insults were a bonus." The little imp smiled. "I came to see how you'd screw up my gift to you. And you performed marvelously. I had quite a wonderful laugh at your expense."

Gargamel's eyes widened and his pale face reddened, but although he tried to speak, no sound would leave his throat.

Mandrake snickered at his expression.

"Now, now, don't pop a vein," he said. "There's something else I want to give you - something substantial. It's my way of thanking you for providing me with so much amusement."

"And what is it?" Gargamel snapped. "A pair of magic shoes to get me lost?"

"No, but that's not a bad idea," Mandrake said. "I want to give you the opportunity to prove to me and to the world that your life has not been a complete waste."

Gargamel frowned.

"And just how do you propose to do that?"

"By granting your request," the little imp said cheerily, "and showing you what the world would have been like if you'd never been born!"

"I don't understand," the bent wizard said. "How would that allow me to prove my life hasn't been a waste?"

"Only you can discover that," Mandrake told him. "But if you do manage to prove to me that your life has been in some way worthwhile, I will promise to fill your cupboards with meat, fish, cheese, vegetables, and bread for a full year."

"Mreah?" Azrael exclaimed, her head tilted and her ears perked as she tried to imagine what it would be like to sink her teeth into a fresh fish.

"But why?" Gargamel asked, completely bewildered. "Why would you offer to do this for me?"

"Well, frankly," the imp said, "for a laugh. I don't believe you can do it."

Gargamel glared.

"I'll show you!" he snapped. "Perform your spell! I'll prove my life has had worth if it's the last thing I do! Azrael!"

Mandrake gave an involuntary jump as Azrael slinked towards her master, peering out at the imp with gleaming eyes.

"No, not the cat!" the little imp said quickly. "Just you, Gargamel. The cat stays here."

"Mrroww!" Azrael exclaimed angrily, glaring at the diminutive creature.

Mandrake shuddered, but stood his ground.

"You heard me," he snapped. "The cat stays or else there's no deal." 

Gargamel and Azrael shared a significant look, then the cat sighed and turned away.

"All right, Mandrake, let's go," Gargamel said brusquely. "I haven't got all day, you know."

"Why?" Mandrake sneered. "You were planning something better?"

Gargamel sputtered. "Just get it over with, you bothersome little imp! Don't worry, Azrael, this shouldn't take long."

"Mreah, mrright," the cat retorted, suddenly nervous for her human. Without her around to protect him, anything could happen.

Lashing her tail, she shot a pointed glare at Mandrake, as if to say, "You'd better watch out for him, or the next thing you'll see will be the lining of my esophagus." 

Mandrake paled, but nodded his understanding. 

Satisfied, Azrael rubbed against her human's leg one last time, then slunk off into the underbrush, on the trail for Smurfs.

Once the cat had gone, Mandrake relaxed, beckoning the human closer to him.

"Here," he said, reaching into his forest-green satchel and pulling out a handful of dried leaves and berries. "Take these and sprinkle them over your head."

"What for?" Gargamel frowned, peering skeptically at the tiny pile of brown plant matter in his palm.

"It's part of the spell," Mandrake explained, and shook his head. "Geesh, no wonder you flunked out of wizard school."

Gargamel opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say anything, the little imp had taken out another handful from his satchel and sprinkled it over his own head. Suddenly feeling stupid for questioning a being that was magical by its very nature, the failed wizard dusted his balding pate with the dried debris, listening intently as the imp recited the spell.

No sooner had Mandrake finished speaking when the forest around them began to spin.

"Oh, oh, oh!" Gargamel moaned, pressing a nauseous hand to his forehead as he waited for his stomach to catch up with the rest of him. "I think I'm going to be ill. Have you done it?"

"Of course I have! What did you think that spinning was for? Now pull it together, man," Mandrake said disapprovingly. "We haven't time for that sort of thing. Who are the people you believe your life has impacted the most? And tell me quickly - I need a list."

Gargamel took a few stomach-settling breaths, then risked a look down at the little imp. When the ground stayed steady below him, he sighed in relief and began to consider the imp's question.

"Well, I suppose my Mummy first of all," Gargamel said thoughtfully. "And my Uncle Balthazar. Then there were those prats from wizard school, but I don't know if I should count them. And of course," he added, a wicked gleam starting in his beady eyes, "there are those wretched Smurfs. Oh yes, I'm sure I've had quite an impact on them over the years."

"Aren't you leaving someone out?" Mandrake asked pointedly. 

Gargamel frowned, counting those he'd listed on his fingers.

"I don't believe so," he said after a long moment. 

Mandrake rolled his eyes.

"What about your cat?" he said, speaking slowly and clearly as if trying to converse with a small child.

"What, Azrael?" Gargamel asked in confusion.

"Of course, Azrael," the imp snapped. "She's only your closest friend. Aren't you curious to know what her life might have been like if she'd never met you?"

"Well, to tell you the truth," Gargamel told him, "I never really considered it."

Mandrake shot him a smirk.

"Of course you didn't," he said dryly. "Well, which of these people would you like to check up on first, then?"

"The Smurfs," Gargamel stated without hesitation.

"No surprise there," Mandrake sneered, raising his arms. "Very well. Hold on to your lunch!"

Gargamel frowned. 

"But I haven't had any—LUUUNNCCHHH!"

His words stretched into a startled yelp as the forest began to whiz past him at an impossible speed. Then, even more suddenly than before, everything stopped. Gargamel held his stomach, too queasy even to yell.

"Well, we're here!" Mandrake's chirpy voice announced. 

Gargamel started to turn a glare on the grinning imp, only to freeze in mid-motion, his eyes widening with glee when he saw where they were.

There, only steps before him, spread out like a colorful patchwork quilt, were the tiny mushroom houses that made up Smurf Village.

To Be Continued...


	4. Chapter 4

"At last!" Gargamel cackled, hopping over the nearest Smurf house to stand in the clearing at the center of the tiny mushroom village. "The Smurfs' village is mine, all mine!"

Mandrake held up a warning finger. 

"Not so fast, Gargamel…" he started, but the failed wizard was in no mood to listen to warnings.

"Don't you tell me what to do, you green-clad little twit!" he snapped. "This is the opportunity of a lifetime! If your spell worked, none of these Smurfs should know who I am. They will fall helpless before me!"

"Think again, human!" a diminutive voice shouted gruffly. 

Gargamel barely had a chance to glance down before a powerful shock of electricity caught him in the leg. Howling in pain, the singed wizard tried to run but a second jolt left him stunned. He crashed to the ground, crushing two little Smurf houses as he fell.

"Heh, got him!" another little voice shouted. "Looks like Handy's lightening smurfer actually worked!"

"C'mon, Smurfs!" the first voice rallied. "Let's tie 'im up before the shock wears off!"

A cheer rose up among the hidden Smurfs at that, but it was nothing like the bright, happy cheers that had always made Gargamel feel so nauseous. This one was cold and frightening. If he hadn't been paralyzed from the electric shock he had just received, Gargamel would have shuddered at the sound.

As the failed wizard lay there helpless, the Smurfs who had captured him began creeping cautiously out into the open. Like wary phantoms, they crawled out from under fallen leaves, climbed up from beneath camouflaged trapdoors, and slid down the trunks of several nearby trees.

Gargamel was alarmed by their appearance. The grungy, earth-tone coveralls they wore were a far cry from the clean, white Smurf pants and hats he was used to seeing, and their demeanor was entirely different. They seemed thin and hungry, and their large eyes were sharp with suspicion.

"My word," Gargamel exclaimed. "Whatever has happened to you Smurfs?"

"Nothing's happened to us," a particularly burly little Smurf smirked, punching his fist into his hand. "As for what's gonna happen to you, that's a different story all together."

"Yeah," a gaunt Smurf added with a cruel, gap-toothed grin. "We're gonna make an example outta you. You're gonna serve as a warning for all those other humans who want to chop down our forest and plow up our homes."

"We're gonna show you all why it ain't healthy to mess with us Smurfs," a third Smurf shouted out, this one with a missing arm. 

Gargamel swallowed, letting out a weak, nervous laugh.

"But I have no intention of harming your forest, or your village!" he said desperately, struggling against his bonds as the wretched-looking Smurfs began a slow, menacing advance. "Mandrake!" he shouted. "Mandrake you useless imp, get me out of here!"

Gargamel suddenly found himself in the center of a whirlwind. Dried leaves and pine needles swirled around him, lashing his face and arms as he spun dizzily. 

All at once, the spinning stopped. Gargamel staggered several paces and nearly fell onto a nearby tree, clutching his stomach with a moan. 

Mandrake watched all this with an unabashedly broad grin, cackling in wicked glee.

"Stop that laughing, you malicious little runt!" the failed wizard growled angrily. "What just happened? I demand to know why those Smurfs were acting so strangely!"

Mandrake shrugged, still grinning. 

"OK," he said. "But you're not going to like it."

"Just tell me!" Gargamel shouted.

"OK, fine! Keep your hair on!" the little imp said, and smirked. "What little of it you have left, that is…"

Gargamel glared. The veins of his neck began to bulge and his face flushed red. It was all Mandrake could do to contain his laughter at the sight as he said, "In this reality, the human towns have spread deep into the forest. They chopped down trees to make space to graze their sheep and cattle, and to grow food crops. And, there's nothing to hold them in check. That old hovel you lived in has long ago been razed to the ground and the stones used to build farm walls. As far as the humans are concerned, the forest is in their way. They need wood and land and, since they don't believe in Smurfs, they see no problem in chopping down their home. Many Smurfs have died in the battle to protect their forest - unseen and unknown, mistaken for mice or ghosts. The ones you met are the few that have managed to survive."

"But this is terrible!" Gargamel exclaimed. "What am I supposed to do now if the Smurfs have been all but wiped out?"

"Nothing," Mandrake said. "You don't exist, remember? And in this reality, with the Smurfs already at the brink of extinction, you have no purpose either."

Gargamel scowled. 

"Enough of this," he snapped. "Take me to see Mummy. Once you see her, lonely and alone in that shack she calls home, you'll see I still have a purpose!"

Mandrake shrugged.

"If you say so," he said. "Hold on!"

"To what?" Gargamel groaned as, once again, the forest around him began to spin…

To Be Continued...


	5. Chapter 5

Mandrake and a very motion-sick Gargamel came out of the whirlwind just in front of a large, intimidating stone castle. A long, wooden drawbridge stretched across a wide, deep moat, connecting the threatening castle to the shadowed pastureland beyond.

"Where are we?" Gargamel asked blearily, a hand pressed to his spinning head.

"Where do you think?" the little imp retorted.

"This castle belongs to Uncle Balthazar," Gargamel snarled. "I asked you to take me to Mummy! Where is she?"

"Watch." Mandrake smiled, and pointed to the drawbridge.

Gargamel followed the imp's finger and saw a young man with a thick mop of wavy black hair riding across the bridge on a sleek black horse. Something about his face—possibly the shape of his long nose or his dark, beady eyes—seemed oddly familiar to Gargamel, yet he was certain he had never seen the man before.

"Who is that nauseatingly handsome aristocrat?" Gargamel asked, wrinkling his nose.

The little imp didn't answer. He was too busy watching Gargamel's face as an older woman in a very expensive black dress came rushing out of the castle to meet the man as he dismounted from his steed.

"Mordred, my darling boy, welcome home!" the woman grinned, wrapping her tall son in a warm embrace.

"It's good to be home, Mummy," the man replied, matching her grin with a flash of perfect, white teeth.

Gargamel's jaw dropped.

"Mummy!" he exclaimed, so livid he actually shook where he stood. "Mummy! Where does that revolting snot come off calling her his Mummy? She's my Mummy, I tell you! Mine, mine, mine!"

Mandrake rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, man," he said, "do I have to keep reminding you? That woman is not your 'mummy.' You don't have a 'mummy.' You don't exist!"

Gargamel snarled.

"Who is that man?" he demanded.

"For lack of a better way to phase it, I suppose I'd have to say he's your brother," Mandrake said. "He's the son your mother would have had if she hadn't had you first."

"That wavy-haired prat?" Gargamel scoffed.

"That 'wavy-haired prat' graduated top of his class in wizard school," Mandrake pointed out. "Specialized in dark magic, of course, just as your mother wanted. Oh—and this is his castle, by the way. He won it from your godfather a few years back in a fierce wizard's duel, and now poor old Balthazar lives at the mercy of his charity—rather the same way you once lived at the mercy of Balthazar's!"

Gargamel glared down at the grinning imp, his face a pinched canvas of roiling emotions.

"I don't believe you," he growled. "You have to be lying. You are getting far too much satisfaction from all this to be telling the truth."

"I'm afraid you have it backwards, Gargamel—as usual," Mandrake sneered. "Lies don't interest me. I have always found the clear, unvarnished truth to be much more fun!"

"I've had enough of your games, you worthless imp!" the failed wizard snarled. "I demand to see some proof of what you say. Where is my Uncle Balthazar?"

"Why don't you go ask them?" the sly imp challenged, gesturing to the mother and son still chatting by the drawbridge.

"What, you mean them?" Gargamel frowned, suddenly seeming rather pale. "As in them, them?"

"Is there anyone else here? Or are you too scared to face them, knowing what you are?"

"I know perfectly well what I am," Gargamel snapped, drawing himself up with a haughty sniff. "I am Gargamel the Great and—oh…oh dear, they're looking my way! Help me, hide me, do something!"

"Excuse me," Mordred called out. "You there—beggar man! Are you lost? Do you require assistance?"

Mandrake exploded in a riot of caustic snickers at Mordred's use of the term 'beggar man.'

For a long moment, Gargamel could only glare at both of them, his face as red as his threadbare shoes. Finally, he snapped, "I require nothing from the likes of you! I demand to see the great Balthazar. You will take me to him at once!"

The dark wizard blinked his cold eyes, his expression suddenly dangerous.

"I will not be spoken to that manner by one such as you," he hissed.

Gargamel looked around-—was it just him or did the gray sky suddenly seem disturbingly overcast?

The wizard continued as a sudden bolt of lightening caused his non-existent brother to jump.

"Do you not know who I am? Do you have no conception of where you are? This is the castle of Mordred the Merciless! Balthazar is my uncle and defeated foe. If you come seeking him, you must be a wastrel, for my miserable uncle is naught but a drunkard and a leech, and his pathetic parlor tricks are a matter of derision for the whole town."

Gargamel swallowed.

Mandrake smirked.

"Proof enough for you?" the imp sneered.

Gargamel seemed shaken, disoriented, intimidated, and not at all well. For a moment, Mandrake almost felt bad for exposing the stooped little man to such an ego-shattering blow. But almost wasn't enough to dull the pleasure he derived from seeing the broken expression spreading across the wretched human's pouchy face.

"Mandrake," Gargamel croaked hoarsely. "Mandrake, take me away from this place. I can't stand to be here any longer. Take me away from these people—quickly!"

"Where do you want to go?" the imp asked.

"Anywhere—I don't care," Gargamel hissed.

"Well, we still haven't checked in on your cat…"

"I told you I don't care!" Gargamel exclaimed. "Just get me out of here, now!"

"All right, all right!" Mandrake said, raising his arms. "Don't get your patches in a twist."

And, with another stomach-lurching spin, the menacing wizard, his mother, and his castle all faded away to be replaced by a far more humble covered wagon hitched to a pair of rather skinny mules.

To Be Continued...

Here is a picture of Gargamel's 'might-have-been' brother: Mordred the Merciless! Awesome artwork by Katie. Thank you! :D


	6. Chapter 6

"Isn't there a way to do that without the horrible spinning?" Gargamel demanded angrily, regarding the rather rickety wagon and its hungry-looking mules with more than a hint of disdain. "Where are we now?"

"About a quarter mile from town," Mandrake replied, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun as he peered around the grassy clearing. "They should be arriving any moment now."

Gargamel frowned. 

"Who should?" he asked. "What are you blathering about?"

The diminutive imp shook his head in exasperation. 

"Thicker than advertised," he muttered. "All right, I'll spell it out for you. Remember Azrael? Your cat?"

"Don't patronize me, you bothersome little imp!" Gargamel snarled. "Are you telling me that this is where she ends up without me? In a ramshackle wagon traveling with some vagabond?"

Mandrake's pale face took on a distinctly smug look, but he didn't answer. 

Gargamel's beady eyes lit up in wicked triumph.

"Ha!" he cackled. "Then pay up, Mandrake! I've won!"

The imp just blinked at him. 

"And exactly how would you figure that?" he asked.

"It's obvious!" the failed wizard exclaimed. "Azrael, living in that leaky crate on wheels? Why, without me, she doesn't even have a proper roof over her head! Who is her master here, anyway? A performer? Some tramp off the streets?"

Mandrake turned a pointed glance to the dirt road. 

"Why don't you tell me?" he said. "Here they come now."

"What?"

Gargamel frowned as he watched two figures, a male and a female, come around the bend in the road. They were on foot and chatting animatedly, pausing their conversation every few seconds to laugh and stagger about like a pair of loons. But look as he might, he could see no sign of any cat.

"Well?" Gargamel asked impatiently. "Where is she? Don't tell me they keep her locked up in that thing," he gestured to the wagon.

Mandrake looked scandalized. 

"Oh no, no!" he said. "That would be cruel."

"Where is she then?"

The imp smirked, nodding his head toward the giggling couple on the road. 

"You really can't see it can you," he said. "She's there. You're looking right at her."

"She isn't! You are lying to me!" 

Completely fed up, Gargamel swooped down and grabbed the little imp, clutching him tightly in his fist.

"Ow, hey! Ease up will you!" Mandrake grunted, his pale face purpling as he struggled for air. "Let me go!"

"I've had it with your games," the angry human snarled. "You're going to tell me what's happened to my cat right now, or I swear I'll squeeze you to within an inch of your miserable life."

Mandrake groaned and panted, panic growing in his wide eyes. 

"She's right there, I promise," he gasped in desperation. "The…the girl…"

"What about the girl?"

"She's…she's a," the little imp struggled. "She's the cat!"

Gargamel's jaw dropped and he gasped. 

"No," he whispered. "No, that's impossible! How could— YOWCH!"

The ragged wizard howled in pain as the suffocating imp sank his sharp little teeth into the flesh of his finger. The moment his hand was open, Mandrake leaped to the ground, where he instantly collapsed into a weak, gasping pile.

"Moron!" he panted angrily up at the human. "Ignoramus! How can you possibly be so blind? So stupid? Don't you realize if you'd crushed me you'd be stuck here forever? A nobody? A nothing?"

The little imp rolled flat on his back and spread out his arms with a bitter laugh. 

"No, sorry, strike that. I forgot who I was talking to for a moment." He turned his disgusted eyes to Gargamel's face. "Can your magical abilities truly be so low that you can't even sense an enchanter from ten feet away?"

Gargamel's dark eyes flared, then sputtered as the imp's words began to penetrate through his anger. 

"An…an enchanter?" he repeated, suddenly looking quite sick. "He's an enchanter?"

"Now you're getting it," Mandrake drawled, climbing slowly back to his feet. "You weren't around to feed her as a kitten, so she took to the streets. After a few months, she was discovered by Gabriel over there. He recognized her intelligence at once, and now they travel the world together, partners in life as they are in fighting crime."

Gargamel gave a start. 

"Fighting crime? You mean…" He trailed off, his reddened eyes blurring as he turned away. "Oh, Azrael, how could you! It isn't fair! It's just not fair!"

Mandrake peered up at the sobbing man with wondering eyes. 

"You really do care about her, don't you," he said.

"She's all I have," the failure admitted through his tears. "All I ever had. Oh, Azrael!"

"Gargamel?" the little imp frowned, starting to feel ever so slightly concerned.

"You were right, Mandrake," the little man growled, wiping his eyes fiercely with his patched sleeve. "I have lived a worthless life! Everyone I know is better off without me. Mummy has that prat Mordred…and now Azrael has that enchanter to give her anything she desires! You win, Mandrake."

He sniffed darkly and turned his eyes to the enchanter's wagon, his expression one of total defeat.

"You win."

To Be Concluded… 

And now, another awesome illustration by Katie! Meet AU Azrael, the enchanter's partner! :D


	7. Chapter 7

Mandrake the Mischievous was peeved. Ever since their meeting with Mordred, the little imp had been plagued with the unsettling itch of a feeling that, despite appearances, all was not going according to plan. 

Now, with his sharp eyes fixed on Gargamel's despairing face, Mandrake realized exactly what was wrong. And even worse, he realized the problem lay entirely with him.

Averting his eyes from the shattered wizard's blotchy mug, he growled, scuffing his shoe in the dirt. 

Here, he had come up with one of the most brilliantly entertaining schemes of his entire nefarious career. He had carefully chosen the perfect victim. He had gone through enormous magical strain and exertion to drag that victim to various points along a might-have-been timeline. And now that his scheme had reached its climax, now that his victim was writhing with the knowledge that he had wasted his life, did he get his expected payoff? Was his little heart giddy with gleeful smarm?

Hardly. 

Mandrake felt peeved. Peeved, annoyed, irritated, irked, and above all piqued. And why?

Because somehow, somewhere along the line, the selfish little imp had actually started to pity the pathetic excuse for a wizard. He felt bad for the overstuffed fathead, and now that he seemed to have given up entirely, messing with Gargamel's head had suddenly ceased to be fun.

Mandrake groaned and rubbed his eyes hard with the heels of his palms.

"Good grief," he grumbled to himself. "I must be going soft in my old age." Looking up, he snapped, "All right, Gargamel, that's enough. The game isn't over yet."

Gargamel frowned down at him with a sloppy sniff. 

"Don't tell me there's more," he croaked. "You've already proved that everyone I know is better off without me. What further torment could you have in store?"

Mandrake set his jaw, hardly believing it was him saying this, but feeling he had to just the same.

"Gargamel, shut up. There might still be a chance - but I refuse to help you if you don't stop that whining."

"Help me?" Gargamel was incredulous. "But you're the one who brought me here! You should be gloating, taunting me. Isn't that why you set all this up?"

Mandrake glared. 

"Don't tempt me, fool," he snapped. "Just listen. Do you remember at the start of this crazy trip, I asked you where you wanted to go and you said—"

"Excuse me?"

Annoyed by the interruption, Mandrake spun around only to take a step back in surprise when he saw who had spoken. 

Gargamel, for his part, looked like he had just swallowed a live wasp.

"A—Azrael?"

Gargamel's voice was hoarse, hesitant, and suspicious all at once. He stared at the slender brunette, noting her sharp, feline eyes, her unkempt hair, the knowing smirk that seemed to be a permanent fixture of her face.

"Azrael, is that you?"

The woman's eyes narrowed, but seemed to soften somewhat when she saw the real pain in the balding little man's expression. 

"The name's Catherine, actually," she said with an apologetic shrug. "But my friends call me Cat. One of Gabe's bad jokes."

She winked, and Gargamel swallowed. 

It really was her. This woman was his cat - his Azrael with a different name, a different…everything, really. It was almost too much for the distraught wizard to take.

Misinterpreting his sudden pallor, Cat took him by the arm, clearly concerned. 

"You poor man," she said. "Here I am gabbing away and you're about ready to faint from hunger. I know what it's like to be on the road. A hearty meal would be just the thing to perk you up. Come with me. You too." She glanced at Mandrake, who was scowling up at her with his tiny hands on his green-clad hips. Despite his annoyance, however, he followed when she began to lead Gargamel away.

"Hey, Gabe!" she shouted as the little group approached the rickety wagon. "I picked up a couple of strays!"

Both Mandrake and Gargamel bristled at that, but Cat didn't seem to notice - or, if she did, she wasn't bothered. A moment later, the wagon's wooden door burst open and Cat's gangly companion stuck his head out to beam at them.

"Ah, guests!" His grin was nearly as wild as his hay-colored hair, but his blue eyes were almost frightening in their intensity. Looking at him now, it was impossible for even Gargamel to doubt that they were in the presence of a genuine enchanter. The shrunken wizard seemed to shrink even further under his powerful gaze.

Apparently amused by Gargamel's discomfort, the enchanter's grin broadened. 

"Come in, come in, come in!" he beckoned enthusiastically. "Always room for hungry travelers. Stew's already stewing - Cat, would you set the table?"

Gargamel shot the enchanter a scornful glare. 

"Do you seriously expect us all to fit in that ramshackle wagon of yours? The miserable thing looks like it'll collapse under the weight."

Gabe raised an eyebrow. 

"Nice company you've picked." He smirked at Cat, who shot him a rather arch look before climbing past him. "A skeptic and…what are you?" He hopped down from the wagon to peer at Mandrake in open fascination. "An imp? Is that right?"

"Mandrake the Mischievous," the little imp stated stiffly. 

The enchanter beamed.

"Ah! That would explain a lot!" He clapped his hands in delight. "Oh, I am looking forward to chatting with you. Both of you." 

Clamping a firm hand on Gargamel's shoulder, he grinned a grin that allowed for no argument. 

"Inside, please. I insist."

The interior of Gabriel's wagon was impossible. It was like stepping into a big, cozy house, complete with carpets on the wooden floors and drapes over the windows - windows Gargamel was certain he hadn't seen from the outside of the wagon. The failed wizard stared around in disbelief from his seat at the enchanter's table, completely flabbergasted.

"Erm, tell me, Mr. Enchanter," he said at last, using his most obsequious tone. "How is it that this wagon is so much larger on the inside?"

Gabe smiled at him over his bowl of steaming stew.

"Simple," he said, his eyes twinkling smugly. "It's magic."

Mandrake scowled from his own seat. At the enchanter's insistence the imp had assumed the human form he'd used when he'd first encountered Gargamel at the marketplace. 

"So much easier that way," Gabe had said. "I always prefer being able to look my guests in the eye when I'm talking to them. When there's an option." 

The moody imp had been resentfully glaring at him ever since.

"Don't bother asking him anything," Mandrake scorned. "Enchanters are all alike. All you get is simplistic nonsense and double talk."

"Aw, that's not true," Gabe pouted through his ever-present smile. "You also get questions. Lots and lots of questions. Here's a sample: What's an obviously powerful imp like you doing with a loser like him?"

"Hey!" Gargamel started, only to trail off sharply when Gabe fixed him with his impossibly intense eyes. 

Cat shot him a sympathetic look from across the table, but that only seemed to make the wizard more uncomfortable.

"Gargamel and I have a bargain," Mandrake stated, staring straight at Gabe. "I've agreed to stock his larder for a year if he can prove to me that his life has had even a modicum of worth."

Gabe raised an amused eyebrow. 

"And why would you make a bargain like that?"

"Because I didn't think he could do it," Mandrake retorted.

"So you brought him to this reality - a reality where I assume he does not exist?"

Mandrake nodded. 

Gabe smirked.

"See Cat?" He grinned, nudging his companion in the arm. "This explains that peculiar twinge I've been getting all day. Told you something was about that didn't belong. And here they walk straight to our door!"

"Hmm," Cat grunted with a thoughtful glance at Gargamel. 

Gabe turned his grin back on Mandrake.

"I can't allow you stay here, you know," he said with false lightness. "You don't belong."

"I know that," Mandrake snapped irritably. "I'm not some dumb meddling human. I'm an expert in this kind of thing."

"And I am an enforcer of magical law," the enchanter retorted, his broad smile taking on a threatening twist. 

Gargamel cringed despite himself. 

"This prank of yours has gone on long enough," Gabe stated. "Your presence here is causing dangerous ripples, and I won't have it."

Mandrake's turquoise eyes darkened dangerously. 

"That is precisely why I hate enchanters," he sneered. "Arrogant pests, that's all you are, sucking the fun out of all the best schemes. But, I am an imp. You have no authority over me. I can do what I like. If that bothers you, makes you feel all twingy, well guess what: I don't care! Besides," he added, suddenly flippant as he lounged back in his chair. "This pathetic loser and I were just getting ready to leave your precious reality when your cat here interrupted us. So, in actuality, it's you that's keeping us here. The prank's over, isn't that right Gargamel?"

"Is it?" Gargamel blinked, ducking slightly in an awkward attempt to avoid the enchanter's burning gaze.

"Oh yes." Mandrake nodded, sliding his eyes over to Cat. "And, I'll let _you_ tell us why."

"Who, me?" Cat asked, clearly caught off guard. "How should I know?"

"Tell me," the imp said. "Have you ever heard of the Smurfs? Little blue-skinned creatures with big, round ears? Stand about three apples high? Like to sing songs so insipidly cheerful they literally make your teeth ache?"

Gargamel stared at Mandrake in confusion, but Cat just frowned. 

"Yeah, I think…" She turned to her enchanter. "Gabe, you've mentioned Smurfs before, haven't you? When we were passing those farms a few days ago. You said all that land had once belonged to the Smurfs."

Gabe nodded, his smile now merely a shadow. 

"The Smurfs were the caretakers of the forest," he said grimly, "until the human town began to expand. They chopped down the forest and plowed up the land. As far as anyone knows, the Smurfs were wiped out."

"They did put up a fight, though," Cat added. "Didn't you say some of the humans had reported seeing ghosts and things? That must have been the Smurfs, trying to scare the woodcutters away." 

She frowned again. 

"They were only three apples high, you say?"

Gargamel nodded, spying something in her expression that made him smile. 

"That's about the size of a plump rat, wouldn't you say…Catherine?"

Cat shot him a toothy grin from across the table, her feline eyes gleaming. 

"Yeah, right. A plump rat." She licked her thin lips. "Too bad they're all dead. I would have liked to know what Smurf tastes like."

"Cat!" Gabe exclaimed with deeply disapproving look. 

Cat glanced at him and flicked back her unruly hair, making a show of taking no notice before shooting another little grin at Gargamel. 

Mandrake didn't bother to hide his smirk. Even in an alternate reality, those two were still a perfectly matched pair.

"So there you have it," the imp stated. "In a nutshell. Without Gargamel, the Smurfs die out. Oh, there are a few desperate stragglers still out there, still fighting the fight, but they won't last much longer. Not against the progress of humanity. And that's why we were going back. The bargain's lost."

"What?" Gargamel exclaimed. "But I don't understand!"

"Yeah, me neither," Cat spoke up. "Are you saying that the Smurfs are still alive in your reality?"

Mandrake's smirk broadened. 

"They most certainly are."

Cat tilted her head, still confused. 

"Because of Gargamel?"

"That's right!" The green-clad imp grinned with wicked glee as Gargamel stiffened in his chair, his beady eyes blazing with outrage. At last, Mandrake cackled to himself, his long-awaited payoff was at hand.

"That's slander!" the failed wizard shouted, his blotchy face beginning to purple. "I've spent my life trying to capture the Smurfs! And now, you're saying they're only alive because of me! Preposterous!"

"Perhaps. But it's true," Mandrake said, and grinned. "Isn't it deliciously ironic, though. You know, I'm starting to think it might have been worth it to lose that bet just to know that you now owe your continued existence to the Smurfs as much as they owe their lives to you."

"But I still don't understand," Cat said. "Why do the Smurfs owe their lives to Gargamel?"

"Because, my dear Cat," Mandrake said smugly, "Gargamel is deeply loathed by the humans of the town. They wouldn't go near his hovel, even armed with pitchforks and torches. They hate him so much that the thought of expanding into the forest won't even cross their minds as long as he continues to inhabit that tumble-down granite heap of his. Therefore, the Smurf community is safe as long as he lives."

Gargamel glared, his eyes wide and hard. 

"If that's the case," he snapped. "Then I'm not going back! Let the little blue vermin rot without me! I'm staying here!"

"You can't do that," Gabe stated dangerously. "According to the laws of magic, you do not exist here. You have to go back to your own world, or face the consequences."

"What consequences?" Gargamel demanded.

"Complete elimination," the enchanter answered simply, his blue eyes glistening with power. 

Gargamel swallowed.

"Hey wait, that's not fair!" Cat broke in. "There has to be some other way this man's life has had meaning. Then, when he goes back, he can return in _spite_ of the Smurfs, not _because_ of them!"

Gargamel stared at her. 

"In spite of the Smurfs?" he repeated, clearly intrigued by the idea. "Yes… Yes! I'll return for spite." 

He cackled out loud, rubbing his hands together in vicious glee. 

"They may owe their lives to me, but I can see to it that they won't enjoy them. I'll have the Smurfs in my stewpot yet! Can't you just see it, Azrael—"

He cut himself off, deflating dramatically when his beady eyes fell on Cat. 

"Oh…erm…" he cleared his throat awkwardly. 

Cat tilted her head with a curious, sympathetic look.

"Gargamel," she said, "who is this 'Azrael' you keep referring to?"

"Azrael?" Gargamel repeated. "Oh, she's my cat."

Cat's eyes flashed at that, and she turned a slightly guilty look on Gabe. 

"Your cat," she repeated, and nodded slowly. "I see. She must mean a lot to you."

"Yes." Gargamel sniffed with an awkward sort of dignity. "Yes, she does."

Cat nodded again, tentatively reaching out to take Gargamel's clenched hand. 

"And I'll bet you mean a lot to her."

The balding little man shrugged, a warm flush beginning to rise up his pale face as he looked at their clasped hands.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "She's a cat. Not a…a human, like you."

"I am _not_ a human!" Cat snarled, baring her teeth angrily. "Gabe just wanted a companion, someone he could talk to and who could talk back. That's all I am to him. I'm not his pet. I'm not even his friend! Not really. Enchanters don't have friends."

Gargamel frowned. 

"But outside…when I saw the two of you laughing together, you looked so happy…"

Cat shrugged. 

"Oh, we have some good times, sure. But he's not the type to scratch a cat between the ears, or brush the tangles from its fur. And, if I even so much as _look_ at a mouse, he gets all disapproving." 

She shot her enchanter an accusing look, which he returned with a surprisingly broad smile.

"Cat, my girl," he said, "I think you've just hit upon the solution! Gargamel cares for his cat! He provides for Azrael's happiness and well being. Surely that is a worthwhile effort, wouldn't you say, Mandrake?"

"Doesn't matter to me," the imp said and smirked, reaching over to sprinkle the wizard's balding pate with the last crumbs of his dried debris. "I've already gotten what I was after. Say goodbye, Gargamel. We're leaving!"

"But - but I—" Gargamel sputtered.

"I'll say it then," Cat spoke up, crushing the slightly taller wizard in a quick hug. "Goodbye, Gargamel. Say hi to your cat for me." 

She released him with a fierce grin, her feline eyes glinting. 

"Oh, and if I happen to spot any of those Smurfs scurrying around—"

"No," Gabe interrupted, clamping a hand on her shoulder with a firm smile. "There'll be no Smurf hunting. Is that understood?"

"Of course, Gabe," she smiled back, only to slide her eyes over to Gargamel, flashing him a quick, predatory wink as he and Mandrake faded away in a silent whirlwind of magic, spinning back to their own reality.

*******

Two weeks later, Gargamel was flipping through an old, yellowed cookbook while Azrael stalked a mouse across the uneven, stone floor. For the first time in far, far, far too long a time, there were enough crumbs littering the hovel floor to bring the curious mice in from the fields, and Azrael was determined to make the most of the opportunity.

"So, what do you think for tonight, Azrael?" Gargamel spoke up with a smile. "How does poached trout with oven roasted vegetables sound to you?"

Azrael glanced up from her mouse-hunt to lick her lips hungrily. 

"Mreah!" she mewed enthusiastically, her crooked tail twitching. 

Gargamel cackled and reached down to scratch the scraggly cat between the ears, just the way she liked. 

Azrael, for her part, deigned to rub her cheek against his palm before slinking away to find another mouse to terrify.

As she went, she snickered to think that Gargamel had actually done something right for once. Whatever had happened in that might-have-been world, the larder was now full to bursting and Gargamel was paying her more attention than ever before. Perhaps, she reflected as she extended her claws in preparation for a pounce, her human wasn't as worthless as she had thought.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading this story! I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it! Your comments and opinions on my stories are always welcome and appreciated. Please let me know what you think! :D


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